Wings
by soumanyon
Summary: Based on the scene in GW: Endless Waltz where Heero gets Wing back. Heero's POV, one-shot


**Disclaimer**: Gundam Wing isn't mine, doesn't belong to me. Nope. (Disclaimers are so depressing.)  
  
**A/n:** This fic has been sitting around for a long time and I decided to dust it off and display it. It's a one-shot based on the scene in Endless Waltz where Heero gets Wing back.

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**Wings **

**soumanyon**

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I don't understand.  
  
I still don't understand.  
  
How is that I, the Perfect Soldier, supposedly trained with 'special' drugs and machines to be without feelings, emotions, or other psychological hindrances, have somehow let an unfeeling machine break through these barriers?  
  
When Quatre first suggested that we destroy our Gundams after the war was over, I, of course, complied. But I remember a vague…feeling. Perhaps that was what started it. Looking back now, I recognize it as almost a panic.  
  
I had been brought into existence for the sole purpose of war. My earliest memories are of training and weapons and tactics. My skills in everything military are nothing short of the best because I was designed to be the Perfect Soldier. It seemed only logical that after the war, there would be no more use for me so I should render myself harmless to the peace that I had been created to win.  
  
But seeing Wing locked into the dark chamber of that asteroid somehow twisted something in me. I thought it would be the last time that I would ever see my Gundam again. But not just my Gundam.  
  
While I'm sure the other pilots have developed connections to their own weapons too, none of their bonds are as close as mine. Wing is my life. What is a soldier without a weapon? The same thing as a soldier without an objective, a mission.  
  
Useless.  
  
The fact that I would be useless scared me more than anything I had faced in the war. In war, a useless fighter was one who would soon be discarded. I knew this fact better than anyone. More than one of my assignments during the war was to silence someone who became useless.  
  
I had been trained to be obedient. I had been trained to never question an order. During the war, Quatre had become somewhat like our commander in many situations. I will admit that he has more capability to come up with elaborate plans to disarm the situations we get to, than any of the rest of us, including myself.  
  
Quatre had asked us to destroy our weapons of destruction. He didn't know that to me, a request was an order. Of course, I complied. But I also knew that if I did, it would be the last mission. So, a choice between disobeying an order or satisfying my own needs? I did what the Perfect Soldier was expected to do. I obeyed without any thought of my own, newly developed emotions.  
  
After that, I managed to convince myself that it had been the right decision.  
  
But when Quatre told us, during the Mariemaia fiasco, that he had our Gundams back…I wasn't so sure.  
  
And when I saw Wing again, shooting through space… Even though it was covered, it still made my breath catch.  
  
Boarding my old friend again, I was hit with a blast of relief.  
  
This was where I belonged.  
  
The seat had never felt so comfortable and the safety restraints had never felt so fitting. My fingers flew faster than they ever had over the controls that directed the huge suit. No one knew Wing better than me. I felt like I had a place again, in this new world that we had created.  
  
I found somewhere I belonged. Inside, I knew that this place wasn't really in this new peaceful world. It was only a memory of my time and place. During the war.  
  
But that didn't matter now.  
  
For now, I had a mission, an objective to complete. I was where I belonged, at the controls of my gundam and once again saving the world. I was home.  
  
Whatever happens after this fight, after this one last mission is completed…will happen. But now my single mindedness from the war came back. Complete the mission. Give no thought to irrelevant matters, what would happen afterwards, whether I would survive this last battle. It's useless to dwell on what might be or what might have been. For now, I'll let myself enjoy this feeling and not let anything take it away.  
  
I folded the wings of my gundam and hit the rockets. They instantly flared up and I could feel the G-forces weigh down my body as I hurtled through space to help my friends.  
  
My friends…  
  
The only one who I've ever referred to as a friend before, was my gundam. And this was only whispered when I was completely alone in my cockpit. But, I guess Wing isn't my only friend…?  
  
Quiet and tall, his brown hair hanging always covering one of his calm green eyes. That's how I thought of Trowa. Steady, reliable, wise, and always there, always someone I could count on. He worked at a circus now. Hard to think of level-headed, silent Trowa as a clown, but then again, he has a kindness perhaps only matched by Quatre.  
  
Speaking of which, Quatre. How a gundam pilot could stay so gentle, loving, and innocent while slaughtering countless people in a seemingly endless war was and still is beyond me. The dotting hen of our little group, the one who looked out for us and kept us sane in our times of hopelessness and misery.  
  
Wufei. He's so much like me. A warrior and a fighter, trained as such from birth. Always there to listen even though we hardly talk. Still, it was always a comfort during the war to know that there was someone who was, even if it was just a little, like me and could understand some of the things I was going through. And right now, he's confused too, I guess. Same as me.  
  
And last, Maxwell. Of course. The pilot of Shinigami was unforgettable. Duo was the most important of our entire group, I think. Not only did he always have hope for peace when the rest of us couldn't see the end of the war, he also represented what we were fighting for. We were fighting for an end to the war, an end to war orphans like Duo. He was never treated fairly, and the reason for that was the war. And, of course, his humor. He always had that overly confident, smug grin on his face. In the best of times, in the worst of times, Duo always managed to lift our spirits.  
  
I suppose they are my friends. I suppose I do have friends. And, I suppose…I do have a purpose after this is all done. Maybe.  
  
But I don't know. I'm not sure.  
  
I still don't understand.  
  
I don't understand.  
  
But maybe I'm beginning to.

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**more a/n:** I think this is a pretty popular and cliched characterization of Heero, so I don't know why I'm bothering to post this. I suppose it's because I like it. And I suppose it's because this will most likely be the only non-yaoi Gundam Wing fic I will ever write. Hope you liked it, please review if you have the time! 


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